The day I was born I was hated.

I, a little scrap of human life, was born along with my precious twin brother. I was tagged as an Omega and tossed to the bottom of the heap of our pack in rank.

Our people have lived on earth since the large reptiles roamed it. Changing and molding ourselves to survive, we gained feet and tongue to speak the furless ones' language.

Once we learned that those who were furless were going to grow beyond our own numbers, we moved forward with our plans to insert ourselves secretly among them.

Where once we had been worshiped almost as gods, we grew close to extinction in the shadows of humanity. Now we live in a form of limbo caught between the human flesh we dawn, and the animalistic urges we suppress inside.

The packs congregated and learned how to earn what humans thought valuable and used it to hide our existence behind wrought iron gates.

Running on the land we bought and paid for under the moon was the only freedom for our people in truth. Yet, in their freedom and traditions, my life was hell.

Pure hell.

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